


I Think I Saw A Porno Like This Once

by veronamay



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Gym Porn, M/M, Not Beta Read, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-17
Updated: 2006-08-20
Packaged: 2017-11-27 21:03:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/666460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veronamay/pseuds/veronamay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gym porn.  That's pretty much it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> What notes? It's porn, people. Pop-tart porn. -–Oh, wait, I do have a note. The title is totally stolen from [](http://cleolinda.livejournal.com/profile)[**cleolinda**](http://cleolinda.livejournal.com/)'s awesome [Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban in Fifteen Minutes](http://community.livejournal.com/m15m/2237.html).

So here's the best way to get Jensen out of bed in the morning: set off firecrackers in his room.

Jared found that out by accident. It was payback for that time Jensen was an hour late for a photoshoot on what was supposed to be Jared's day off. Jared was in grave danger of being captured on film wearing chaps and a pink Stetson that day, because the photographer got bored with waiting.

Jared figures he deserved to make a point about punctuality.

Jensen didn't appreciate it, but Jared had enough appreciation for both of them. The sight of Jensen "I'm Not A Person In The Morning" Ackles stumbling out of his bedroom at seven o'clock on a Saturday morning, pyjamas twisted around his body, wild-eyed, with hair resembling a startled porcupine – that's an image Jared will treasure for years. Especially the pyjamas; they were stripy blue, for crying out loud. Like the ones Jared wore when he was _nine_.

Nothing can really top that, and Jared wants to save the explosives for special occasions. So, the next best way to get Jensen out of bed in the morning? Drag him to the gym. It's not easy – Jared usually ends up banging on Jensen's front door for ten minutes every morning trying to wake him up (Seriously. He's even worked it into his morning routine: _5.30am – get up; 5.50am – arrive Jensen's; 6.00am – Jensen gets up_.) – but it works. By the time they've each sweated their way through an hour of crunches and free weights, Jensen's fully awake and demanding coffee. It's not a foolproof plan, because sometimes Jensen flat out refuses to get out of bed a minute before he has to; but short of setting his bed on fire on a daily basis, it's the best Jared can do. He doesn't even know how or when it became his job to make sure Jensen gets to set on time, but it's not a big deal. He's a morning person, and Jensen's place is on the way to the gym, so why not?

So they work out together most days, and Jared distracts Jensen from the fact that it's still dark outside by telling him the filthiest jokes he knows, and Jensen gets Jared to spot him when he's bench pressing, and it becomes a sort of ... thing. It's even fun, aside from the whole physical-effort-first-thing-in-the-morning part.

Then one day Rosenbaum turns up out of the blue, and in the space of fifteen minutes Jared's nice simple system goes straight to hell.

* * *

See, Jared has a thing for Jensen. It was inevitable, really: Jensen is exactly Jared's type, and the minute Jared found out the network picked up the pilot he knew he was in trouble. And Jensen is a great guy; smart, good at his craft, and he shares Jared's sense of humour, which makes it worse and better at the same time, because after a week of working together Jared knows he's way _beyond_ 'trouble', but on the up side at least he knows his taste doesn't suck.

He tells Sandy, because they have an agreement about this stuff, and she just gives him a 'well, _duh_ ' look because she's met Jensen and she knows Jared better than anyone. She doesn't tell him to go for it, which he appreciates – but she does tell him to let it ride. It might just be a crush, after all, and who knows what might happen six months down the track? It's good advice and Jared takes it, thinking for the millionth time that he has the best girlfriend in the history of everything.

He tries, he really does; in fact he nearly kills himself trying. He keeps a tight rein on himself whenever Jensen's around and focuses on working, and not on sneaking glances at Jensen's ass and legs in well-fitting jeans, or the way he looks in a black t-shirt, or how his eyes crinkle up and his whole face shines when he smiles – because that would be totally twelfth-grade teenage girl of him, and Jared is not a teenage girl. At all. Candles or no candles, damn it.

The constant pranking on set helps; it makes him think of Jensen as a brother instead of someone he'd like to fuck (a lot, repeatedly, in many different positions, which he doesn't ever think about, nope). And besides, Jared's better at pranks, so Jensen's usually the one who ends up looking like a dork.

But of course, Jensen manages to make even dorkiness sexy, and he's good natured about it which is even worse, and that's when Jared gives up on the whole 'it's just a crush' defence and takes refuge in denial. It works – mostly - and things travel along pretty good, except for the odd embarrassing dream and the surge of helpless jealousy when Jensen finds a new girl.

Until Rosenbaum and his fucking smirk enter the scene, that is.

Jared doesn't know what it is with Mike; he's like this god of sexual insinuation or something. He's got a gift for entering a room and turning everything _gay_. Really, really fucking gay. And it's not even deliberate, or at least Jared doesn't think so. Mike just has that effect on people – well, guys, anyway. He doesn't know if Mike's ever turned a straight woman gay, and he's definitely not about to ask. He likes his nose unbroken, thanks.

Whatever. The important thing is, Mike walks into the gym one morning when they're in the middle of Jensen's third set of Smith squats – and how they all ended up going to the same gym, Jared has _no_ idea, because he had no idea Mike even knew what a gym _was_ – and when Jensen's done and Jared steps back so he can straighten up, there's a wolf-whistle and applause that sounds like gunshots in the empty weights room.

" _Nice_ , Jensen," Mike says, lounging in the doorway to the room. "Talk about walking pornography. You know, I can see how all those rumours get started about you two."

He's unshaven and his head is all stubbly, which is not the greatest look in the world for him, and the fact that it's six in the morning and the state of Mike's hair is even _registering_ tells Jared he needs coffee.

Jensen grabs his towel from Jared and wipes down, then takes a swig from his water bottle. He grins at Mike, not seeming at all surprised to see him, and Jared looks away from the attraction of that smile.

Fucking Rosenbaum, messing up his equilibrium.

"Hey, Mikey." Jensen puts a hand on Jared's shoulder for balance and folds one leg up behind him, stretching out his quad. "Whatcha up to?"

"I'm just enjoying the view, babe," Mike says, grinning when Jensen laughs. "You guys do this to yourselves every morning, huh?"

"It keeps us pretty," Jensen replies, switching to his off leg. He leans in closer to Jared for balance, making Jared stutter on his next inhale.

"Well, it's working. Hot and sweaty looks good on you." Mike nods at Jared, his grin turning evil. "I like that tank top, Jared. Showcases all your assets, man."

Jared fights down a blush – a fucking _blush_ for God's sake – and ignores his sudden feeling of exposure. The tank's comfortable, it's old, and it's not like he's wearing a mesh shirt and a nipple ring. Mike's just being an ass.

"I figure Jensen needs some eye candy after being stuck on a set with you for a year," he shoots back.

"Well, that's some _fine_ prime rib you got there, son. Some nice T-bone action. You're a lucky man, Jensen."

Mike grins wider, and Jared blushes hotter and wishes he could hit him, or else disappear into the earth. How the hell does Rosenbaum ever get a date when he comes out with lines like that?

Jensen just rolls his eyes and snaps his towel at Mike, dropping to the floor to finish stretching. Jared usually helps him with his hamstrings, but there's no way in hell he's doing that today, not with Mike and his Amazing Gay Monologue superpowers waiting to pounce.

"I'm gonna grab a shower," Jared says, ignoring Jensen's look of surprise. "I'll meet you outside when you're done. Get a shave, Mike," he adds, which is a crappy parting shot but the best he can come up with. Mike fakes an ass-grab as he walks by, and Jensen laughs when Jared flinches.

Rosenbaum is _such_ an ass.

* * *

Jensen's onto him.

Okay, maybe not, but he knows something's up. He's been giving Jared these thoughtful looks when he thinks Jared's not looking, only Jared's _always_ looking, so now he knows that Jensen's thinking about him. Which would be a good thing, except that the only reason Jensen's thinking about him is because of Mike and his stupid gay act, and Jared has to play dumb but he's not real good at lying, which is ironic when he thinks about it. But Jensen's smart enough to reach an accurate conclusion anyway, and Jared knows it's only a matter of time before Jensen pins him down - to talk, unfortunately.

Four days after The Rosenbaum Incident, Jensen's lying on the floor waiting for Jared to help him stretch out his hamstrings, and Jared's hanging back trying to think of an excuse not to. He feels bad, because Jensen's hamstrings cramp like a bitch if they're not warmed down properly, but if he gets down on his knees between Jensen's thighs right now ... well. He's never had sex on an incline bench, but he's three feet and twenty seconds away from trying.

"Jared? Jared!"

He flinches when Jensen raises his voice, a hot flush rising over him. He's half-hard, but he doesn't dare to look down in case his shirt doesn't cover it. Jensen's looking at him, that new thoughtful look again, and Jared wishes he could be anywhere else right now.

"Sorry," he says, clearing his throat. "What did you say?"

"Give me a hand here." Jensen's stretched out full-length on the floor, one knee bent, and Jared has to bite his tongue to stifle a noise. Jensen's skin is gleaming with sweat, his face flushed with exertion, and really, nobody should look that good in ratty grey sweats and a t-shirt.

Jared blinks when Jensen raises his leg straight up to the ceiling, then remembers what he's meant to be doing. He grits his teeth and kneels in front of Jensen's raised leg, supporting him at ankle and thigh.

"Ready?" he asks, and Jensen flexes his foot and nods. Jared leans in, applying gentle pressure, and Jensen's leg moves easily toward his body, straight as an arrow, and just how flexible is he, anyway? Jared keeps leaning, watching Jensen for any sign of discomfort, and he's bent nearly double, Jensen's knee touching his chest, before he signals for Jared to hold it there. Jared's so close he could lick the sweat off Jensen's neck; he can feel his heat, and that's enough for his control to fray.

He backs off, wiping his hands down his shirt while Jensen switches legs. He can still feel Jensen's muscles flexing under his hands.

"Okay, come on. We haven't got all day." Jensen's waiting, and Jared bites his lip and moves back in.

"So what's up with you lately?"

Jared blinks, focusing on Jensen's face instead of the lonely mountainside he's been envisaging. The one full of rocky terrain and tiny little brooks, with the odd yak dotted here and there just for colour. The one that doesn't remind him of Jensen at all, and therefore, theoretically, should be helping him get rid of this fucking erection. Jensen gazes up at him; they're practically nose to nose, and there's nowhere for Jared to go.

"What're you talking about?" he asks, trying for casual 'who, me?' innocence.

"You're twitchy."

"I am not twitchy."

"You are. You're like a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs." Jensen grins up at him. "Did Mikey goose you or something?"

"No!" Jared lets go of Jensen's leg and straightens up, swiping his bangs out of his face. "I'm fine."

"Sure you are," Jensen says, his voice dry. He sits up and puts the soles of his feet together, pushing his knees out to touch the floor. "You run out of here like your ass is on fire every morning, you avoid me like the plague if we're not working, and you've lost all vestiges of a sense of humour." He leans forward over his legs, his back a perfect muscled curve, but his gaze never leaves Jared's. "C'mon, give. What's up?"

Jared gets to his feet and busies himself with picking up their towels and water bottles.

"You'd better hurry," he says. "We're going to be late."

"Jared, talk to me."

"Leave it alone, Jensen."

"No. You've been like this ever since Mikey--" Jensen straightens up and stares at him, something clicking in his face, and Jared knows the exact minute he puts two and two together. But the conclusion he reaches is not the one Jared's expecting.

"Mikey came in on Tuesday," Jensen says slowly. "And you got all riled up when he teased you."

"I did not get _riled up_ ," Jared argues, but Jensen's not listening.

"You almost fell over yourself trying to get away." His gaze is suddenly a lot cooler. "What's the matter, Jared? Did he threaten your manhood?"

Jared gapes, caught by surprise. Jensen's flat-out glaring now, his eyes resembling green ice chips. Jared stumbles over his words, trying to deny what Jensen's suggesting without admitting the truth.

"Come on, Jensen!" he splutters, gesturing wildly. "You know me better than that."

"I thought I did." Jensen's voice is hard. "Tell me I'm wrong."

"You are. Okay? You are so very, very wrong. You know I've got no problem with – with—" He stopped, unsure what to say.

"Can't find the right euphemism?" Jensen needles. "You're not really proving your case here, Jared." He stands up, grabbing his towel and stalking toward the door. "I can't _believe_ you."

Jared watches him walk away, still groping for words, confusion warring with lust and anger inside him, bubbling up and spilling over. He's after Jensen in an instant, at the door in four strides, grabbing Jensen and swinging him around by main force.

Jensen comes round with his arm up like he's expecting a punch, and Jared grabs it, forcing their hands down. He stares into Jensen's eyes, his control hanging by a thread, feeling their pulses racing under his fingers. Jensen's eyes are wide, his lips parted.

"Don't jump to conclusions," Jared breathes, and watches Jensen inhale sharply. He holds on for another moment, flexing his fingers, then he lets go and heads for the steam room. Jensen hates steam.

* * *

Jared sits in the steam room for a good twenty minutes, sweating and feeling like a dick. Jensen made the wrong assumption, yeah, but what else could he think? Jared's been flinching whenever Jensen so much as brushes his arm, and any time they're alone he finds excuses to be elsewhere. No wonder Jensen thinks he's homophobic: the only other answer is the truth (read: Jared is very, very, very attracted to him, in fact can think of little else _but_ him most of the time, and would really enjoy getting to lick every inch of him multiple times over) and Jensen would never think of that in a million years. He's too modest, for one thing, and there's Sandy, for another.

He knows he should just go out there and explain. All it'd take is a few words - _I'm in the closet, Mike made me nervous_ \- and things would go back to normal. It's the right thing to do; he just needs to screw up the courage to actually do it, and hope that Jensen doesn't try to dig any deeper.

No time like the present, Jared decides, while the endorphins are still racing around his system. He'll buy Jensen a coffee and they'll talk, and it'll be fine. He'll go back to sublimating the urges he gets to throw Jensen over the nearest piece of furniture and fuck them both stupid, and that'll be that.

That plan lasts until he walks into the locker room to shower, because there, sprawled out full-length along a bench, is Jensen. His arms are folded behind his head, and he appears to be _sleeping_.

"Jensen." Jared bumps his feet. "What're you doing?"

Jensen sits up, yawning, stretching his arms overhead. His t-shirt is about two sizes smaller than usual, and it's so worn Jared can almost see through it, outlining every swell of muscle. Jensen's still got that sleepy-puffy look to him despite their workout, meaning his eyes are only half open and his lips and cheeks are flushed, and Jared's pretty sure he's seen a dozen porn flicks that start off just like this.

"Could ask you the same question," Jensen says. "I thought you might've melted in there."

His voice is sleepy too, low and almost growly. Jared grips the doorframe behind him for support. Jensen doesn't sound angry anymore. A tiny wisp of hope flares inside him, and he takes a breath.

"We gotta talk."

Jared sits astride the bench, facing Jensen.

"I should tell you—" he starts, but Jensen's shaking his head.

"You don't need to explain yourself to me," he says flatly. "You're not comfortable with it; fine. I just wish you'd _told_ me instead of—"

"I fucked my first guy when I was sixteen," Jared says, and Jensen's mouth snaps shut so fast Jared wonders if he bit his tongue. They stare at each other for a minute, Jared's words hanging heavy in the air.

"You ... did?" Jensen asks.

"Yeah."

"Your _first_ guy."

"Yeah."

"Meaning there've been others."

"Yeah."

"Okay, you need to stop saying 'yeah'," Jensen says, and he's smiling, and Jared thinks that maybe things are all right. He smiles back, his pulse pounding in relief.

"Dude, why didn't you tell me?" Jensen asks, and Jared shrugs.

"I haven't told anyone, except Sandy, and she kind of guessed," he says, neglecting to mention Sandy's 'guessing' was along the lines of, 'Jared, either stop staring at Jensen like he's a double chocolate cheesecake, or drag him somewhere quiet and fuck him, for crying out loud'.

Sandy's a little blunt sometimes.

"Sandy guessed," Jensen repeats, and slants him a look. "Bet that was a fun conversation. When?"

"About a year ago," Jared says, suddenly cautious. "She was really great about it."

"Huh." Jensen's gaze skewers him for a moment longer before he clears his throat and looks away. "Okay, well. I guess Mike weirded you out, huh?"

"He does that on a normal day," Jared replies. Jensen grins, and something around Jared's heart loosens. "I – kind of freaked out, yeah. Overreacted. Sorry."

"Forget it." Jensen claps him on the shoulder, his smile flashing, stunning Jared all over again. "But hey, next time you've got an earthshattering secret, just tell me, okay? I thought you'd been possessed or something."

_Here's an earthshattering secret. I really, really want to knock you flat on your back, strip you naked and lick you from head to foot. And then fuck you until you can't see, until you're shaking from it, until you can taste it when I come. How's that for a handy-dandy little secret?_

He thinks all of this in a heartbeat, and something must show in his face because Jensen draws back and ... yeah, there's that goddamned _look_ again, the one that makes him feel like a bug under a microscope. Jared looks away, digging through his duffel bag for a clean towel.

"I'm going to shower," he mutters, and walks off. Jensen calls after him, but he doesn't turn back. If he did, he'd do something incredibly stupid like push Jensen down on that bench, straddle him and bite that tendon in his neck, and for five seconds it'd feel amazing, but then Jensen would tell him no and that would be the end of everything.

The showers are empty. Nobody but the two of them is insane enough to get up at oh-dark-thirty in the morning to work out. Jared's glad of the solitude right now; he needs some time to get himself back under control. He turns on the shower, lukewarm, and stands under it with his eyes closed, wishing Jensen wasn't so understanding. Wishing Jensen was just a bit more of an asshole.

He wishes.

He wishes Jensen was in here with him, sliding up behind him, stroking wet hands up over his thighs and belly and chest, hooking over his shoulders, pressing them together. He wishes Jensen would lay a trail of kisses across his back, up to his neck, tickling the delicate skin of his nape and under his ear, whispering softly all the dirty wonderful things they're about to do. He wishes Jensen's hand would drift back down his body, finding his cock, fondling it, finding the grip and rhythm that drives Jared mad, until he has to lean forward against the wall for support. He wishes Jensen would hump slowly against his ass while he strokes, discovering the dark warm spot between his thighs that's just perfect for him, not quite penetrating but stopping just short every – damn – time, until Jared's crying out and trying to claw at the wall, one hand going back to grip Jensen's hip and drag him closer, pushing back into Jensen's thrusts and forward into his pumping fist, letting his orgasm pour over him like a river, draining away with all the stress and frustration and painful wanting that he can't ever seem to escape.

He wishes Jensen could hear him when he moans his name, trembling, aftershocks hitting him in small pulses that make his knees weak so that he slides down the wall, sitting numbly underneath the spray.

_"Jared."_

* * *

He looks up. Jensen's standing in the doorway, eyes wide, and Jared knows he heard. Saw. Everything.

"I—" he begins, not knowing what to say – how the hell do you explain jerking off to a fantasy of your best friend, even if you did just come out to him? – but Jensen's moving, coming toward him with a look on his face that Jared's never seen before. It's almost _scary_ , except by the time that idea filters through Jared's post-orgasm haze, Jensen's almost on top of him, turning off the water, and then Jensen really _is_ on top of him and stripping off his t-shirt, and exactly when did Jared take a left turn and fall down the fucking rabbit hole?

"You _dick_ ," Jensen breathes, crawling up over Jared's sprawled-out body. "I can't believe you had me thinking you were a fucking _redneck_ , and all this time—"

Jared opens his mouth to speak, and thank God he does because Jensen takes that as an invitation to dive right in, thus saving Jared from making the huge mistake of trying to _talk_ about this. Because Jensen? Is a really, really good kisser. His tongue's in Jared's mouth inside of ten seconds, and his hands are all over Jared's body, and maybe Jared did just come only a minute ago but – he's young, he's got a quick recovery period, and about thirty more seconds of this and that fantasy might not be out of the question after all.

"How is this my fault?" he manages to ask, gasping for air as Jensen licks and bites his way over Jared's throat. "I didn't know you'd be interested!"

"Dude." Jensen lifts his head for a minute, looking at Jared like he's a moron. "Are you serious? I've seen people walk into walls because they're too busy watching you. We're together sixteen hours a day, and you're hot, and funny, and nice, and you can actually hold a conversation about something other than the fucking Longhorns. And yeah, okay, you drink Molson's and you like it, but nobody's perfect, and you might just have the most gorgeous hands on the planet, so I figure that makes up for it." He looks into Jared's eyes, breathing hard, his cock pressing into Jared's stomach as if to emphasise his words. "I'd have to be dead not to be interested, and even that's debatable. Now can we please get on with—"

"Shut up," Jared cuts in, and yanks him back in. Jensen pretty much whimpers into his mouth, opening up wide, twisting around to get his sweatpants off without breaking the kiss, and Jared thinks about Jensen's knee touching his chest in that hamstring stretch and that's it, game on, ante up. He pulls Jensen onto his lap and bends his knees, and Jensen grins against his lips and leans back, his cock almost – almost – close enough to suck. That's playing dirty, Jared thinks, and he slides down, because Jensen's not the only flexible one here, and grins back around a mouthful of cock.

Jensen sounds like he's hyperventilating for about ten seconds, and then with absolutely no warning he starts to fuck Jared's mouth, and Jared's brain kind of shuts down right about then, because Jensen fucking his mouth is about the hottest thing he's ever imagined. This isn't _like_ locker room porn. This _is_ locker room porn. He almost wishes they were being filmed.

"Jared," Jensen pants, lifting his hips, his thighs rock-steady under Jared's hands as he thrusts, his shoulders hard up against Jared's knees. "Jared, I'm – gonna—"

Jared just hums around him and brings his knees up further, forcing Jensen deeper into his throat, and groans in his turn when Jensen grinds his ass against Jared's cock. He opens his eyes – not that he remembers closing them – and sees Jensen staring down at him, mouth open and red, sweat gilding him, and – something locks into place inside him, immutable. He wants Jensen. He needs Jensen. And seeing him like this, open and wanting Jared back – he thinks he might love Jensen. Just a little bit.

More than a little bit.

Maybe a lot.

Jared shudders and swallows convulsively, and Jensen bucks into his mouth, a strangled cry coming from him as he spurts and trembles above him. Jared swallows again, greedy for the taste, licking softly until Jensen pulls away and collapses against his chest. Jared's hard again, but he's not worried about that right now; he's too busy dealing with the revelation that just hit him out of left field, and what the hell use is denial if it leads to this anyway?

"Wow." Jensen lifts his head after a minute and blinks myopically up at Jared, a lazy smile on his face. "That was fun."

"Fun," Jared echoes. Sure. He's sitting here with a hard-on he could dig fence posts with, and his heart's pounding so much he could be having a heart attack, and Jensen calls it 'fun'. He really is a dick sometimes.

"Uh-huh. We should totally do that again sometime." Jensen nuzzles into Jared's neck, melting against him, arms tight around his waist. "What's in your day planner for the next, oh, seventy-two hours?"

"A trifling little matter called 'work'," Jared says, but he doesn't move. He tilts his head over when Jensen finds a sweet spot near his collarbone. "We should go, or we'll be late."

"We've got time." Jensen doesn't move either, except to slide one hand down to take hold of Jared's cock. "Gotta take care of this first, right?"

"Uh. Right," Jared manages, his vocabulary shrinking to 'yes' and 'now' and 'more'. He struggles for words. "Got any ideas?"

"Jared. I have two words for you." Jensen leans in very close, his lips just touching Jared's, and smiles. "Vaulting horse."

END


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Outtake from the main fic.
> 
> Jared gears himself up to apologise and walks into the gym to find Jensen, as described, lying on one of the benches in the locker room, sleeping. The outtake below happens directly after their reconciliation.

"He does that on a normal day," Jared replies. Jensen grins, and something around Jared's heart loosens. "I – kind of freaked out, yeah. Overreacted. Sorry."

"Forget it." Jensen claps him on the shoulder, his smile flashing, stunning Jared all over again. "But hey, next time you've got an earthshattering secret, just tell me, okay? I thought you'd been possessed or something."

"Okay," Jared says, grinning back in relief, and that's that. He gets changed, and they fall into their routine like they never stopped, and by the end of the session Jared wants to hit something because everything's the same, _Jensen's_ the same, and dammit, he could really use some locker room porn right now. Explaining things to Jensen has fixed the rift between them, but now Jared can't stop thinking about it. Jensen knows, and he's giving Jared those looks again, and Jared thinks he might actually go insane from repressed lust. Because Jensen's hot and sweaty and that old t-shirt clings like a second skin, and he's got to know Jared's looking but he doesn't say anything. He just runs through a set of chin-ups while Jared stares, mesmerised, at the glimpse of sculpted abs that appears every time Jensen extends his arms to lower himself back to the floor.

Jared forces his eyes away, jaw clenched, and sees the heavy bag across the room. Perfect. He's not a boxer, but he needs to distract himself somehow or he's going to do something stupid. So he works the bag for a while, nothing fancy, just good solid jabs to get rid of all his ... excess energy. It feels good; he falls into a rhythm, letting the sway of the bag dictate his moves, and it's several minutes before he realises Jensen's watching.

Jared stops punching, dodging the bag's final swing, sweating freely and panting. Jensen's leaning against the wall to his left, and he's got that fucking look on his face _again_ , and just like that Jared feels all his frustration come flooding back.

"What?" he snaps. His arms are already starting to ache; he's going to regret this later.

"Nothing." Jensen shrugs, but his gaze is sharp. "You okay?"

"I'm just dandy." Jared grabs the bottom of his shirt and wipes his face. He isn't, but that's not Jensen's fault.

"Okay. If you say so." Jensen looks hard at him for another second, then adds, "You should go steam for a while before you hit the shower. You were working it pretty hard there."

That sounded pretty good, actually. It's not part of their normal routine, but the heat will help keep his muscles from stiffening. Jared nods and catches the towel Jensen throws at him.

"Go on, I'm nearly done here," he says, and Jared obeys.

He feels strange. Frustrated, and mad at the world, and obscurely annoyed that Jensen didn't have more of a reaction to his admission. He didn't expect him to fall into his arms and rip his clothes off – life's not that good to him – but he thinks Jensen should've been more _interested_ , or something. Or maybe he's being an idiot again and Jensen's trying not to invade his privacy.

Maybe Jensen just doesn't care. The thought makes Jared want to pout – but totally not like a girl, right – but it's possible, and if so he just needs to get the fuck over himself and _deal_. He tells himself all this in a stern internal monologue while stripping down to a towel, hoping some of it will sink in. He's not the first guy to have unrequited feelings for someone. It won't kill him. Probably.

The steam room is hot and damp, and Jared can feel his body relaxing despite himself. He sits down halfway along the tiered seating at the back of the room, which is wide enough to accommodate a full-length stretch without falling over the side. After a minute of sitting he does that, relaxing completely, letting himself drift. It's quiet, his breathing the only sound apart from the hiss of steam. Jared closes his eyes and puts one arm behind his head for a pillow, the other resting on his stomach.

He's half-asleep, totally limp, when he hears someone enter the room.


End file.
